


Naughty or Nice

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar Drabble, Advent Challenge 2011, Between Seasons/Series, Dubious Consent, Evolution, F/M, POV Female Character, Porn, Season/Series 01-02 Hiatus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Echo has an engagement</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naughty or Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Advent Calendar Day 7  
> Prompt: Black

As she waited for the door to open she adjusted her coat nervously. She wasn't actually nervous, but the client she was visiting tonight preferred that she act that way and then warm up to him as the night went on. She shouldn't know that, but she did, somehow.

Finally he answered, and she smiled her most winning smile. "Hello, handsome. I've got a present for you from a Mr. Clause?"

He smirked in a self-satisfied way and for a brief instant she saw a flash of a blond man looking at her in the same way. It was gone before she could identify it, however, and she returned her attention to her client.

"Have you been naughty or nice this year?" she purred as he lead her into the large house.

"Oh, I wouldn't say _naughty_ per se," he replied cheerfully, "but I've had my share of fun."

"You should get a lump of coal in your stocking," she teased, testing the waters. He chuckled, and she continued. "A big black lump of coal for a naughty boy."

"I'd rather have you in your stockings," he whispered, wrapping one arm around her waist.

She let him lead her to the bedroom. That was the point of the engagement, after all. She was a professional, and playing a professional of only a slightly different kind. She knew her role perfectly.

"What about you," he whispered in her ear, "are you on the naughty list?"

"I couldn't say," she shook her head playfully. "Everyone I meet says I'm awful nice."

Reaching the palatial bedroom, she shrugged her coat off, revealing the naughty Christmas teddy and thigh high black stockings underneath.

"That you are, honey, that you are." As he put the coat on a chair, she could tell he was undressing her (from what little was left) with his eyes, and she tried not to react.

Seconds later they were kissing, his hands pawing her hungrily. She responded in kind, knowing what was expected of her. She wrapped one hand in his short blonde hair and gripped his arm with the other, her mouth constantly in contact with his. As he stripped off her lingerie, she moved her hand down to caress his face.

He had information that she wanted – needed – and this was the only way to get it. They both knew what the rules were, knew better than most people, and they both abided by them.

They tumbled onto the bed and he slid down, worshiping her body with his mouth. He still viewed her as a goddess, despite everything that had happened between them, and he liked to show it when they made love.

She had only a second to brush her dark hair out of her eyes before he began to torment her, and she gripped the sheets for desperately. If nothing else, both of them were experts at mental multi-tasking, and even this part of the game had specific rules and patterns.

Her mind might be distant, calculating, but her body only knew what it sensed, and it was reacting favorably to his attentions. As he mercilessly worked at her clitoris with his teeth and tongue, she arched and moaned, feeling real heat course through her. One leg kicked gently, ineffectually, and he placed a broad hand on her hip joint.

He was relentless, and well trained, and psychotic, and he wanted to pleasure his goddess before he claimed her. Her pleasure came first, he always said, with a twinkle in his eye that she attributed to irony. His other hand moved up to her breast, fondling and pinching lightly, and she writhed again. Her breathing became panting, and her eyes closed involuntarily as he brought her closer to the edge.

And then, without warning, she reached that point of oblivion and surged into it, finally able to shut her mind off for a few seconds as the intense pleasure rushed through her. He stood up as she trembled through the shocks, and carefully removed his clothes. Before she was fully recovered, he was aligning their bodies and slowly pushing inside her.

He never lasted long with her; as his goddess she inspired more lust in him than did the average woman. He thrust over and over again, and she floated in the haze of her own afterglow. This was all part of the rules, well documented and patterned.

Soon he came, filling her up, and then he melted onto the bed. They lay together in the silence for a while, each recovering, calculating, obeying. Finally she decided it had been long enough, and she sat up.

One hand – always – rested on the small of her back in entreaty, but she ignored it, as she was supposed to. After another pause, she rose, and began to trace the path of her clothes back to the origin point. She redressed quickly – these clothes weren't very complicated for that very reason – and then picked up her coat.

He was still lying on the bed, watching her, just as he always did. She never looked back, but she knew the feeling of eyes on her back better than she knew her own body. He didn't stop her when she walked out, down the long halls towards the door.

He didn't say a word as she scooped up the money – as per the rules – and the microchip that were sitting on the entry table. She tucked the former into her purse, knowing that it would just go back to _them_ , and the latter was slipped into a small cut on her scalp. It was the only way she could get it past the screening process, and she needed this.

This was the reason she came and the reason he let her leave. This was the true next step in their evolution. This was what she had been looking for subconsciously for years.

She heard a soft movement in the hall behind her and didn't turn; she didn't have to. "Goodbye, Omega," he whispered, and even though she was in the process of fighting for her own identity, she let him call her that, because those were the rules.

"Goodbye, Alpha."


End file.
